I stare at him, asking myself how he knows all this, how long he’s been watching me this carefully, and realizing the answer almost at the same time: Always. He’s always watched me, always documented my every move. I assumed it was for nefarious purposes, that he was looking for a crack in my armor or a moment of weakness, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he watched me for the same reason I watched him. Because he enjoyed it.
